Standard Interview Procedure
We’re all sitting in interview room seven, which is the one with the chained-up fire escape in the back. Detective Sergeant Gruber, having squeezed his vast bulk between the desk and the recording equipment, is going through the preliminaries with the bloke sitting across from us.
“You understand why we’re all here?”
The bloke nods his shaven head.
“And you’re going to tell us the truth?”
“That’s good, because I have a minimal tolerance for being bullshat. Sergeant Elwin can tell you all about my singular aversion to bullshit, can’t you Sergeant Elwin?”
I nod, because I’m Sergeant Elwin and because Detective Sergeant Gruber dislikes being disagreed with as much as he dislikes being bullshat.”
“Right then. I reckon you need to start by telling us everything that you think might be relevant to this little conversation. If I think you’re genuinely committed to getting me into the pub at a reasonable hour, I’ll be less likely to want to do you significant harm.”
Cognitive dissonance hangs heavily from the bloke’s forehead. Eventually, his Neanderthal brow relaxes and he looks up at me. I stop drawing obscene stick figures and take a fresh piece of paper on which to make notes.
“So, I’m just driving around…”
“Why were you driving? Where were you going?”
I write ‘Where’ and ‘Why’ on my paper. The bloke’s face is all screwed up again, so I go back and put in a couple of question marks. After what seems like about thirty seconds (and actually is thirty seconds – I’m really good at judging time) the bloke tries again.
“So, I’m on my way to the local shopping centre, right, because I’ve got to see this geezer who works there…”
DS Gruber emits an ambiguous snort, but our bloke has found his tongue and continues undaunted
“And on the way there, right, I sees this bastard that I’ve had a beef with for fuckin’ ages. since I met him in the Young Offenders Institute. Anyway, I pulls up the motor and jumps out. Now, he sees me and shits himself and tries to run away, but I’m faster than him on account of he’s a crack head and I’m not.”
He pauses. I smile. DS Gruber issues an unambiguous fart.
“So, after about an ‘undred meters, I grab hold of him and he makes me dish out a couple of slaps before I can shove him into the motor.”
“Just get to the bloody point will you?” DS Gruber’s stomach makes a noise like a plug hole being unblocked with a cat.
“Well, it turns out that this geezer’s got twenty rocks of crack hidden up his arsehole and a fuckin’ pistol in his pants.”
DS Gruber’s patience finally gave out with an audible twang.
“So you nicked him, took him to court, he got years and years and that was your best arrest so far. Brilliant. Look, you’re actually the only applicant we’ve had, so welcome to the squad. Now can we please go and get some fucking dinner?”
So we do just that. I have some onion rings, DS Gruber has all the pies and our new Detective Constable has a steep learning curve to look forward to.